


It Can Always Get Worse

by TheConfusedTissue



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AI!Washington, BAMF Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Canon-Typical Violence, Chorus Trilogy (Red vs. Blue), Felix | Isaac Gates Being a Dick, I'm Bad At Tagging, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22926502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheConfusedTissue/pseuds/TheConfusedTissue
Summary: Washington has made some friends, and he's made some enemies. Many people he meets don't like him, whether it be his attitude or seemingly impervious nature towards death. Hargrove figures that if he can't kill this perfect soldier, then he'll make him join their side.Or: Locus and Felix try to turn Washington against his friends in a very, very painful way.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 33





	1. That Hurt

It was a massacre, Fed and New bodies flying left and right as the mercenaries laid waste to the soldiers under his command. It was a miracle that none of the reds or blues died. Carolina was right in the middle of it all, Epsilon guiding her punches to _just_ the right spots and keeping her safe, but it almost wasn't enough. Washington had seen Felix sneaking up behind her, pistol in hand. So, when the little weasel went to make a move, so did Wash. He had stood up from behind cover, firing off a few shots towards the rat bastard, only for them to bounce off of his blue shield. Felix knew he was going to shoot at him, meaning-

Washington can feel the pain of a sniper's round piercing through the exposed part in his armour's shoulder before he can hear it, and he can see as the world tips backwards and the interior of his helmet get jostled from hitting the ground. The comms burst to life as a choir of voices shout, most of them from his colorful friends, asking if he was okay or still alive. He grits his teeth, telling himself to keep moving as he sits up. His shoulder feels like it's on fire, but there's nothing he can do about it and people who need him. He grabs onto the rock he was hiding behind and hauls himself up, ignoring his shoulder's protest. He barely moves his head to look around before the butt end of a rifle slams into his visor. He stumbles back, biting back a shout as his shoulder slams into the ground, and quickly looking up at who attacked him. Through the cracks in his visor, Washington sees green and grey armor. _Locus._ He rolls out of the way of a kick that clips his arm rather than hitting his ribs, and scrambles to his feet. He has to hold his head at an angle so that he can see Locus, but it's not enough. With his blind spots, he doesn't see the knife thrown at him. It pierces his shoulder, going into the bullet wound, and he can't help the cry that escapes his lips this time. 

"Washington, hang o-! Gh!" Carolina grunts, having to focus on her fight with Felix, meaning that she won't be able to come to his assistance. Washington tries to punch Locus, but the mercenary grabs his wrist and twists. He feels something pop, and there's an explosion of pain that shoots through his hand as the bone cracks. He's sent sprawling back again as a fist connects with his chin. Washington lands wrong, his back hitting a rock. Locus hasn't gone for the kill yet, meaning that he wants Washington alive, and that's honestly more terrifying than facing the chance that he might die. 

Washington feels something hit the side of his helmet, and he loses consciousness before he can fall to the side again. 


	2. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington wakes up as a prisoner.

His shoulder hurts. Badly. Like, "someone shot and then stabbed it" version of badly. That's the first thing Washington notices when he regains consciousness, the next is all the other aches and pains. He keeps his eyes shut, mentally scanning his body for injuries and hints to his surroundings. The shitty patch job on his shoulder alone let's him know that he's not with the Feds and News; Emily would have never done such a half assed job. Another indicator of this is that his other cuts and bruises don't even have a Band-Aid on them, let alone a cast for his broken wrist. He's not on any pain medication, otherwise his senses would be dulled. There's also no smell of antiseptic in the air, so not a hospital or medical room in a base. And, as if he needed any further indicator that he's not with his allies, he isn't laying on a bed. Beneath him is just cold stone. Speaking of which, he can feel the ground beneath him especially well without his armor. All Wash is wearing is a jumpsuit, along with some cuffs that are holding his arms behind his back. 

Slowly, Washington opens his eyes and takes in the area around him. He his head hurts, but Wash doubts that he has a concussion. It just doesn't feel like it did the last time he had one. He focuses on his surroundings, glancing around the room. No, scratch that, cell. He's located in what looks remarkably like an old western sheriff's office, complete with bars separating him from the rest of the room. The space pirates aren't fitting with the theme, though. Sitting in the room across from him, there are three mercenaries engaged in a very serious looking game of cards. Washington slowly sits up, refraining from making any noise. 

"I'd fold, if I were you." Three helmets all whip towards him, and he mentally scolds himself for that quip. The reds and blues' attitude is wearing off on him. 

"Go get Felix."

"On it."

One of the mercenaries sets down his cards and leaves, others looks at what hand their buddy had and swears under their breath; She was bluffing them. The two that remained to watch Washington get up, walking closer to his cell but staying out of arms reach. They watch him for a bit, then the one standing on the right speaks first. "I don't get why we don't just kill him."

"Because Felix will have our asses if we do."

"Forget Felix, I'm more scared of what war crimes Locus will commit if we disobey his orders." 

"And what, I can't commit a few war crimes either?" The two mercs stop talking immediately, turning to face Felix. He's leaning on the doorway, twirling a knife in his hand and looking at them expectantly, as if daring them to comment on that. When they don't respond, he clicks his tongue and walks towards the cell. "Thought so." 

Washington watches him, not bothering to get up just yet. Make it look like he's more injured than he really is, and maybe they'll go easy on him. It's unlikely, but he's going to hope for the best. "Where's Locus?" 

"He's wrapping up some business in one of the outposts not too far from here. It should be ours by the end of the hour." Felix stops twirling the knife, holding it by the hilt of the blade. He leans forwards, one arm pressing casually against the bars. "So it looks like it's just you and me, Wash. Sounds fun to you too, right?" 

"Oh yeah, I just love getting tortured for valuable information and being pressed to betray my friends and allies." Washington lays down the sarcasm heavy on that one, moving his unbroken wrist ever so slightly to see if he can squeeze it out of the handcuffs. Maybe if he dislocated his thumb, he would just barely be able to pull it out. 

Felix chuckles, watching him. "That's the spirit! However, I won't be torturing you today... Much." 

Washington frowns. He knows what Felix is doing, promising no pain and then saying it might be compromised. It's a scare tactic that is commonly used in interrogations. That isn't what worries him though, the concerning part is _why._ Why won't they, or at least Felix, be filleting his skin and prodding him with tasers? If he's not going to be put through hell, then why is he here? Well, come to think of it, one doesn't need to be physically tortured to give up information. Locus probably was able to deduce that Washington had gone through extensive training so that he could keep his mouth shut when situations were less than ideal. If that's the case, then he's in for a bumpy ride of psychological tricks and mental mind games. 

"What's with the long face? Are you actually disappointed, or just confused?" Felix stands up straight, not waiting for a response before he continues to talk. "You know what? I think I might just toy around with you. I mean, why does Locus get to have all the fun? He doesn't even enjoy it!"

Wash bites back an insulting comment, deciding not to test his luck. When he doesn't get a reaction, Felix holds his hand out towards the guards. They stare at him. "Um, sir..?"

"The key, dumbasses!" Felix sighs and shakes his head, taking the key card from one of them. He turns towards the cell again, swiping it on the door. Washington hears a click, and sees it open. "I swear, I'm working with fucking morons. Go wait outside."

The remaining guards walk out, and Washington feels his stomach churn. Felix is a sadistic son of a bitch, and there's not much that he can do right now to stop what's coming. He makes a move to stand as Felix approaches, but the merc grabs his bad shoulder and pushes him back down just as Wash gets his legs underneath him. He sharply inhales, but is admirably able to refrain from screaming. He tries to jerk away, but Felix just pushes him forwards. Wash falls to his stomach, hitting his chin on the stone floor since he's unable to use his hands to stop him. An armored boot is pressed between his shoulder blades, pinning him down with little effort on Felix's back. He feels his captor lean forwards, applying pressure. "I don't see what he sees in you. I mean, you're all that Locus will talk about nonstop! Just Washington this and Washington that! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've impressed him." 

"Oh yeah?" Washington shifts, trying to find a good angle to roll over, throwing Felix off balance and knocking his legs out from underneath him. So far, there's not much luck in this plan. "If that's the case, then I bet he won't like you starting this without him." 

Felix pushes down with his heel harder, making his prisoner wince. "And why would I care about that?" 

"That's enough, Felix." Locus is standing on the other side of the room. Based off of how the pressure on his back lessens ever so slightly, Felix didn't hear him enter either. 

"Party pooper." Felix huffs in annoyance, removing his foot. It's soon replaced with a knee, and then two hands grab onto Wash's shoulders. 

Locus walks into the cell and kneels besides him, holding a small data chip. He moves it in front of Wash's face, putting it directly in his field of vision. "Do you know what this is?" 

Washington knew exactly what that was. His stomach was suddenly a pit of ice, and it became harder and harder to breath the longer he stared at it.

In Locus' hand is an AI chip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a somewhat longer chapter?! Gasp! On a less goofy note, it seems like my brain is addicted to agent Washington at the moment. I know, I shouldn't be starting a 3rd fic while I'm still writing the other ones, but I really didn't want to lose this idea! I hope you enjoy reading this, and don't forget to leave a comment. See you around!


	3. Implantation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert, the AI chip is used.

Washington stops breathing. It's not a conscious decision, but rather his body made the choice for him. He can't focus on anything but the AI chip being held in front of his face. Memories of things better left forgotten flicker across his mind, appearing and tearing each other apart before he can center in on one of them. Not that he'd want to, having seen even more twisted renditions of them in his nightmares. _Don't say goodbye, I hate goodbyes._ The edges of his vision goes blurry, and Washington forcefully inhales through his nose. He can't pass out right now, not with this company. 

"Kind of an anticlimactic reaction there, Wash. Where's that dramatic flare that Tucker always complains about?" He feels Felix nudge his back, digging the knee in harder. Washington's mind takes off at full sprint, coming up with ways to kill this son of a bitch and escape. He doesn't get to capture Wash, and then casually bring up **any** of the reds or blues when there's a fucking _ai_ _chip dangling in his face-_

"Washington," Locus' voice cuts through his thoughts like a knife, and Wash's eyes snap up to him with laser focus as he repeats himself. "Do you know what this is?" 

"Yes." He doesn't like how quiet and withdrawn his voice is, so he adds a little more force into his tone. "I know exactly what that is. How did you get one?" 

"Our boss Hargrove has some great connections, so maybe you should be asking him." Felix sounds as cocky as ever even after being ignored, no surprise. "Can we just get this show on the road?" 

"Yes, hold him still." Washington's panic amplifies as Locus grabs his head and pushes it into the ground. Adrenaline finally coursing through him as Felix holds his shoulders down _that fucking hurts_ and he starts to struggle. Locus keeps his neck still, inserting the small data chip into his implants. Washington bites down on his tongue, waiting for the invasion of privacy to commence. 

.... Only it doesn't. He feels something, like a pressure on the back of his subconscious, but other than that? Nothing. The AI isn't even trying to talk to him, it's just.... There. He swallows, looking up at Locus. Felix scoffs. "That's it? No screaming and begging for me to take it out?... I've been spending too much time around Donut."

Felix makes a gag sound and releases him, standing up. Washington immediately pulls away, his hand trying to go to the back of his neck. Unfortunately, the cuffs are still on, meaning that he can't just rip out the chip.

Locus stands up, looking down at him. "I'll be back later to check in on your progress, Washington. If you try to escape, I'll find you and make you regret it."

Washington barely notices as the mercenaries leave, too focused on the _fucking AI chip in his neck_ that's out of his reach. If he can dislocate his left arm, he could use his right one to pull out the - Why isn't it talking? Usually, the AI would have at least "tested the waters" of his brain by now, right? Well, maybe not exactly. He doesn't have a good reference for AI behavior considering Epsilon was his only past experience with them being implanted. Washington carefully rolls over and sits up, scooting away from the cell door, then waits. After nothing happens, he starts to chew the inside of his cheek. It's not talking to him, so it's probably not here willingly either. If that's the case, he should... Attempt communication. That's the right word for this, since befriending it definitely is **not.**

".... Hey, are you... In there?" Washington waits, pushing the rising bile back down into the pit of his stomach. He's not going to puke from anxiety, he's not going to puke from anxiety, he's not going to - He gags, but doesn't puke. Good, he's still keeping it together, even if it's only barely. When the AI doesn't respond, Washington tries to reach it mentally. His mind pokes at the chip, and finds nothing in return. Just empty code that he can't make sense of... There's no second consciousness, no AI hiding from him, just strings of 1's and 0's without a personality. The AI is blank, just a shell without a soul. His brows furrow. Somehow, this is both relieving and even more concerning than having to share his mind with someone else. Now he has no idea what to expect. The AI is virtually just taking up space, so what's the point of it being in him? 

Wash shakes his head, unable to figure it out, and relaxes back against the wall. He closes his eyes, but does not sleep. Instead, he goes back to silently planning his escape. 

Washington's head hurts, along with his shoulder, wrist, and now lower back (thank you, Felix). In the nearly two hours that he's been sitting in this cell, the seemingly blank AI code has expanded out of the chip and into his mind. His head feels stuffed full of programming, making it hard to think and harder to focus on what the guards on the other side of the room are talking about. They moved on from poker to Go Fish, and eventually decided to play Uno instead of watching him. Not that he can complain; their lack of focus means that they think he's asleep, which makes Wash's job of eavesdropping a lot easier. He's been able to deduce that Felix was right, one of the outposts did fall to the mercenaries, but not much other than that. No hints as to where he is, what's going on in the capital, or what they plan to do with him. Frankly, the guards are as in the dark as he is, and don't know much about the AI. As a matter of fact, it's been their topic of discussion for around the last 18 minutes. 

"I still don't get it. How would that justify giving useful tech to him?" 

"They're testing it! I mean, what else could they possibly gain from giving it to him?"

"What could they gain from letting him use it, even if it's for a test? He's a fucking Freelancer! Those guys used these things like Pokémon!"

"I don't think that analogy works."

"Fuck you, it makes perfect sense."

"No, I agree with Alex. Oh, and Uno." The other two curse as the merc plays her second to last card, sitting back and grinning smugly. 

The one on her left starts to draw cards. "How do you do this in every game we play? Are you cheating?"

She shakes her head. "Nope, I just got one thing to say to you; Git gud." 

Washington tunes them out, their constant chatter amplifying his already horrendous headache. At this rate, it feels like his head is going to explode. He can feel the strands of codes binding to his mind, sinking their hooks into his brain tightly. He has no idea why, and is afraid to find out. He just needs to escape before whatever this is gets completed, and then get back to his team. He knows he's going to be in for quite the greeting when he arrives. Carolina will be simultaneously concerned for his wellbeing and angry that he got caught for trying to help her, Church will be a condescending prick in an attempt to hide his emotions, Tucker will give him an earful about stopping his sacrificial heroics, Caboose will hug him and ramble about what took place while they were gone, Sarge will ask if he gathered enemy info while inconspicuously analyzing his injuries and mentally rating his behavior on a scale of "fine" to "fucked", Simmons will probably be nervously standing off to the side with Grif, who will in turn be saying something about blues dragging red team into trouble, Donut might decorate his hospital room to make it more "homely", Doc will try to be helpful, and Lopez will say something insulting that he doesn't think Washington will understand (if he even shows up). Thinking about them ~~and not his current situation~~ makes his life a whole lot easier. They're certainly not a simple group, but they do help to ease the burden of pondering what ways the hollow AI will be used against him in the future. Was it whole at one point, or was it made this way? He's not sure what's more sickening; That Hargrove created an essentially soulless being, or that he destroyed everything that made the AI itself... Scratch that, he knows which one it is, and he really hopes that it's the alternative. 

The coding seems to burrow itself into a particularly sensitive part of his brain, and he can feel as his memories start... Leaking, for lack of a better word. It's going deeper and deeper into his subconscious, analyzing and latching onto everything it comes across. He tightens his hand into a fist, then releases it. It's taking all of his willpower not to fidget and draw attention to himself, but at this point, he's not even sure what's keeping him from bashing the back of his neck into the bar. Come to think of it, maybe he should do that... No, the force he'd need to actually do any damage to the implants that way could break his spine, so there goes that plan. Washington slowly exhales through his nose, and inhales through his mouth quietly. Looks like he'll be here a while, so he better get comfy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, another chapter posted! I'm really proud of this one, and I'm curious as to what you guys are thinking. Please feel free to leave a comment, and I'll post another chapter soon.


	4. Synchronization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mercenaries visit once more.

Fuck being inconspicuous, stealthy eavesdropping can go suck a dick. Washington has long since stopped caring about the guards realizing that he's not asleep, and is now sitting with his face buried into his knees, and his back firmly pressed against the wall. His arms are still cuffed behind him, which is uncomfortable, but the discomfort helps ground him in reality. His migraine has gotten worse, which shocker, isn't surprising news at all considering what the AI has been doing for the past several hours. It's pretty much fully integrated with his mind, and is currently digging through the last inch of untouched space in his brain that he has left. He's tried to stop it, whether by actively trying to put up mental barriers or just thinking about random topics instead of whatever it's currently latching onto, but his best efforts have barely made a dent in it's progress and left him mentally exhausted. The taste of bile sits in the back of his throat, threatening to spill over and onto the floor with every memory the AI goes through, but he keeps it inside. If he's going to puke, it's going to be on Felix, because Washington will take any victory over that bastard at this point, no matter how petty. 

Speaking of which, he can hear the orange and grey merc's voice outside of his cell. When did he enter the room? "-inda pathetic, Wash. Do you even hear me?" 

"Fffuck off.." Washington mumbles, not bothering to lift his head. Why would he? It's too heavy right now, and he has a feeling that the lights would hurt his eyes, so it's a much better idea to just let it lay where it is. 

Felix chuckles, opening the cell door. "So you are awake. Good! I want to see your reaction to this." 

"Felix, enough." He hears footsteps approach, and can only assume that it's Locus. Was he the one that opened the door? How long has he been watching? Never mind, doesn't matter. All those thoughts are doing is hurting his head even more than it already is. 

Gloved fingers touch the sides of his head and lift it for him. His eyes are only halfway open, yet the world being tilted upwards is enough to make the vomit inch up his throat a little more. He suppresses the urge to shut them, and instead focuses on what he can see. Locus is kneeling in front of him, his expressionless helmet staring at Wash's face, and Felix is standing behind him with a smug posture. Wash wants to flip him off, but he's not sure he could muster the willpower to lift his arm even if it wasn't cuffed. 

"It looks like his brain is melting, does that mean it's working?" Felix leans forwards, getting a better look at Wash. 

"Seems like it." Locus is courteous enough to lay Wash's head back on the wall before he stands up, letting the ex-freelancer look at them. 

"How will we know when it's done?" Felix steps closer, and Wash gets the impression that he's being viewed like an animal at a zoo. It's a familiar feeling to the one he would get when the Counselor would watch them during a debrief, only that one was more like being a specimen under a microscope or a perplexing puzzle. 

"We won't." Locus looks at his associate, then at the guards. "Someone grab me a towel."

"Yes sir." One of them leaves, their footsteps fading away quickly. It would seem that they don't want to be here either. 

"Then what are we supposed to do? Sit with our thumbs up our ass until that creepy fucker tells us what to do?" Felix crosses his arms, catching Washington's attention at _creepy fucker._ Felix speaks about Hargrove by name, so who else are they taking orders from? 

"That is exactly what we'll do." Locus returns his attention to his partner. 

Felix, in turn, huffs. "Does he even know when it'll be done?" 

"Felix, you are getting on my last nerve." Locus says it so matter of factly that it takes a moment for Wash to realize what the words meant, or maybe he's just processing things slowly because of how full his brain is. Still, it gets the job done and successfully silences Felix, who simply stands off to the side like a kicked puppy. Wash almost finds it funny, and might have even laughed if the circumstances were different. 

It doesn't take long for Felix to grow tired of sitting there and doing nothing, so he storms out, hitting his shoulder against the guard who returned with a towel on the way out. They watch him go, then hand the towel to Locus, who gives them a nod. "You're excused, be back in 5 minutes."

"Yes sir." The guards all disperse, heading out together. 

Locus turns to Wash, who flinches away when the merc reaches for him. However, rather than being pinned down and getting his implants inspected, the towel is lightly wiped across his face. Washington slowly looks down at it and sees blood. Did that come from his nose? Probably. He should be more concerned about the implications behind that... 

"When this is all done with, would you like me to send your body back to your team?" Washington's heart churns slowly, his mind taking a moment to digest that. He had a feeling that they didn't plan to keep him alive once this is all done, it just wouldn't be practical, but that doesn't explain why they'd be willing to return his corpse rather than tossing it into a bonfire or an unmarked grave. As if reading his thoughts, Locus speaks again. "While I don't see the value of the supposed soldiers that you surround yourself with, they mean something to you, and I only thought it fair that your body is treated with respect after you leave it." 

Weird choice of wording, but Washington can appreciate the gesture. If he really can't escape, at least they'll have something to bury. "Yeah... Send me back to them.." 

"I'll make the arrangements" He goes to leave, but as he locks the door, Washington puts in the effort to speak.

"Locus...?" Wash watches as the merc stops and looks at him. "Thanks...."

After a moment, Locus simply nods and leaves. Wash let's his eyes close, his head still laying against the cool wall. His temples are throbbing, and his mouth feels dry, but there's a little comfort found in knowing that his corpse will be returned to his team if he fails. He could name the number of soldiers he knows who had the courtesy that he'll receive on one hand. With that in mind, Washington finally passes out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter was a doozy to write. It hurts to make Wash go through this, but I promise that it'll get better for him, just not in the next few chapters. As for Locus, I have a hard time writing him because he either comes out as too sadistic or too kind. I hope I was able to make a healthy balance, but if not, feel free to let me know what I did wrong in the comments.


	5. Bad Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone from Washington's past returns, but they certainly aren't an old friend.

His headache has gotten better, surprisingly. The AI is still burrowing into his mind, going deeper and deeper into what it has attached itself to, but it's also integrating itself within Washington's subconscious. The coding is slowly disappearing into his mind one strand of "01001" at a time. His head feels somewhat light, but that could just be because of the AI minimizing itself. The thing seems to be eradicating it's programs that were unable to become a part of his mind, becoming even emptier than it already had been... This is wrong. Washington doesn't know exactly what's happening, but that's the best way to describe it: Flat. Out. Wrong. This thing could have once been a person too, with their own emotions and thoughts, but now it's so devoid of anything that it has to fuse its code to his entire being. He still has no idea why the chip was implanted into him. Why not one of the many mercenaries under Felix and Locus' employment? Why not any Fed or New soldier (not that he'd ever want one of them to be in his place)? Why, out of all the people on Chorus, did they choose him specifically? 

The door opens, and Washington's head slowly swivels towards it. He sees Felix and Locus enter, no surprise there, followed by a face that he thought he left behind forever. The Counselor doesn't seem to have changed much. He's a little older, for sure, but he still gives off that creepy and unsettling vibe, so nothing important is different. Wait.... _Creepy fucker._... Washington swallows, trying to get rid of the cotton feeling in his mouth. "You're working for Price?" 

"Working for him? No. Definitely not." Felix unlocks the cell door, then walks in and leans against the wall in front of Washington. He pulls out a knife and starts flipping it around. "I don't work for him, I just need him to finish up this job on you."

"Hello agent Washington. It's been a long time since our last session, and we have many things to discuss." The Counselor walks into the cell, grabbing one of the foldable chairs that the mercenaries were sitting on during their card games and settling into it a few feet away. Locus takes his position outside of the cell, silently watching. 

"Fuck off." Washington glares at him. If the Counselor can get by with just showing an eternally calm exterior, Wash will take a card out of Epsilon's book and employ an ever present anger. It's a very different strategy than what he used during their previous confrontations, which was the "no emotion" technique. This failed horribly. The Counselor saw right through it, and without some sort of shield or _something_ in between the two of them, it will fail again. So, anger will have to work as the buffer. 

The Counselor uncaps a pen, staring into Washington's eyes with that damn gaze of his. "It would seem that you have some unresolved problems. Perhaps I could assist with that." 

"Go suck a dick, Price." While his comment gets a laugh out of Felix, the Counselor doesn't seem fazed. If anything, he's intrigued. Washington sees him look down and scribble something on his clipboard. What did he notice? What did that statement reveal? No, fuck, hold on and keep it together, Wash. You can't just freak out at such a small thing _~~even if that's what he's manipulating you into doi-~~_

"You've developed a new habit. It could be a side effect of the company you choose to keep yourself in." The Counselor looks at him, tilting his head forwards ever so slightly as if inviting him to speak. 

Washington clenches his fists, willing himself to stay angry, but his voice doesn't hold the same conviction it had before. "What are you here for?" 

"You, agent Washington. I'm here for you." The Counselor writes something else down. Back in project Freelancer, Wash used to swear that Price would just doodle on the clipboard to keep people on edge, since there was no way that he could be constantly picking up on meaningful and subtle things that would be overlooked by others. He knows better now; It doesn't matter what gets written on that, but _why._ if the Counselor saw something fit to be wrote down, then it could be used against Washington later, no matter how small. The Counselor looks back up at him. "How is your head feeling?"

"You didn't answer my question." 

"I did, now you should answer mine." The Counselor looks at him expectantly, knowing that he was searching for more information and purposefully withholding it from him. 

Washington grits his teeth. "Like someone took a jackhammer to it. I could give you an example, if you'd let me out of these cuffs."

The Counselor writes something down yet again, which is getting on Wash's nerves. "Would you say that you've bonded to the AI?" 

"It was supposed to do that?" Wash huffs, keeping answer vague and open for interpretation. That will create an opening that, if he's lucky, the Counselor fall into and expose information. 

"Yes." Damn it. Looks like two are playing at this game. 

Washington bites the inside of his cheek, then spits out a question. "What's wrong with them?" 

The Counselor tilts his head ever so slightly to the left, as if perplexed by the question. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean why are they so empty? What did you do to them?" Washington has to hold back more questions, his shield of anger strengthening as he thinks about what might have happened to turn the AI into... This. 

The Counselor shakes his head. "That's not what matters here, agent Washington." 

"Then what does?" Wash narrows his eyes "... And quit calling me that."

The Counselor writes something down. "That's your name." 

"My name is Washington, but I'm not your agent." Wash feels a small amount of satisfaction at the way the Counselor quietly stares at him. He knows he probably just gave up some sort of detail that will be used to give him some extra nightmare fuel later on, but for now, that confused expression is making Washington's day. _Not a very hard thing to do, considering how the rest of it has been going so far._

The Counselor finally looks away and writes on the clipboard. When he looks back, he has a _tiny_ smirk. "Would you say that you have overwhelming feelings of anger, and a need for revenge?" 

Washington's heart feels like it's made of lead. He just had to say that, didn't he? Washington looks down, considering how to answer. Is he angry? Fuck yes. This wasn't how the mission was supposed to end. He's alone without any way to contact people, separated from his team, and a prisoner... Come to think of it, he's afraid. Afraid that his friends are in danger, afraid of what's happening to him, afraid that he'll die.. There's a lot to be scared of, but there's even more to fight for. His teammates and the people of Chorus are expecting him to make it back alive. He needs to get back for leadership and moral purposes, but also because he has friends. He needs to return to them, alive and preferably in one piece. 

Washington lifts his head again, his eyes connecting with the Counselor's own. He speaks with tired conviction, an absolute assuredness in his voice. "Not this time." 

The Counselor nods, then looks back at the mercenaries. "He's ready." 

"Fucking finally." Felix walks past the Counselor's chair, and towards his prisoner. Washington gets his legs beneath him and stands, but the world lurches around him and he's left off balance. He almost falls over, but is grabbed by Felix. The moment that bastard's hand touches his arm, Washington jerks away. He pivots and turns, punching Felix's jaw **_Ow ow ow fucking helmet_** , something in his hand breaking. 

Locus grabs him, pushing Wash up against the wall. "Felix, the chip." 

Washington struggles, trying to kick or pull away or _something do something you damn idiot don't give up don't let him-_

Felix grabs the chip in the back of the neck and pulls. Washington can feel the chip move less than a centimeter out of his implants before time starts to move forwards at barely more than a crawl. He feels it slowly being pulled out, but can barely focus on that because his mind seems to be going with it. His body starts to feel foreign, like he was riding in the back of a strangers head all along. His fingers tingle as they slowly become numb, and he becomes acutely aware of the blood rushing through his veins and the energy flowing within his nerves. Washington can't move his body fast enough for him to stop Felix before the chip is pulled out, so tries to hold into his consciousness, to pull himself away and back into his body, but it's like the AI chip is a blackhole that's just sucking him in. He's soon trapped within it, and with him comes the last bit of his mind. 

The AI chip disconnects from his implants, and so does he. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea how code works, and probably broke a bunch of rules about how AI's function and stuff, but hey! It made for a good fanfic idea, so I hope you enjoyed it anyways.


	6. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now stuck within the chip, Washington has to deal with not having a body.

He's cramped, unable to move an inch in the confined space of the chip. Not that he could actually move even if there was more room, that would be physically impossible. Washington is just lines of code now, all part of a program.... That thought alone is enough to make him want to vomit, but again, that's not physically possible. He has neither the stomach or mouth to do it, let alone anything to actually throw up. He should've puked on Felix when he had the chance. He wants to scream, but he has no voice. He wants to cry, but he has no tears. He wants to punch something, but he has no hands. There's nothing that he can do to experience catharsis, nothing but explore the 1's and 0's that now make up his existence, but fear of screwing something up and accidentally deleting a vital component of his personality is keeping him from tapping into the code. 

So he waits, trying to find a comfortable way to... Well, he's not sure what he's doing. Certainly isn't sitting or standing, but he tries to get into a position that doesn't give him claustrophobia. The chip is like someone shoved him into a box that a cat could barely fit in comfortably, only it's not exactly a box.. The shapes are defined, so he's not in a sphere, but they're not all even. Would it be a lopsided pyramid, or a rhombus cube thingy? Or is it more of a weird trapezoidal box? 

The actual shape of the space Washington is held within doesn't matter, but it's a distraction, one that he really needs. Washington spends the next 15 minutes and 12 seconds trying to figure out what it would be classified as, and settles on "sharp blob". He's not actually sure how much time passed, since time could be passing differently for him now that he's an AI for all he knows, but he needed something to task his mind with. It was too easy to assess the shape and size he was in, too simple, as if he could be doing this and a million more tasks at the same time. Come to think of it, that's what AI's do. They're built to be running several complex programs in tense and dangerous situations, where it's up to them to keep their soldier alive or the ship from being blown up or.. Or.. Or... 

He needs to go offline before he finds out what a digital panic attack feels like. 

Washington finally gives a tentative poke at his coding, and then reels back like a cat slapping water. When nothing happens, he tries again, and gets the same result. There's no sudden memory loss, at least not one that he can detect, so he pushes against the code. It doesn't push back. _So much for Newton's third law._ Washington moves it around, looking at confusing strands of programming that somehow make sense to him. He knows that what he's looking at makes up the outer layer of himself, the most prominent features and traits of his personality that he presents to others. He moves some of it aside, and after a lot of digging, comes across the next layer; the one he shows to those close to him. He digs a little more, wanting to see how deep it goes-

Washington promptly derails that train of thought with as much force as possible, burying his coding once more and piling the layers of personality back on. He's already seen the depths of his mind, they come across as nightmares. He doesn't need to explore it again.

The chip suddenly feels foreign. The limits are more defined, sharper. The space tightens around him, and no matter what way he adjusts, it just keeps getting smaller. Washington begins to feel claustrophobic. There's no room to move, to breath. Not that he could do any of that before, but now it's accentuated even more. It reminds him of whenever he was falling unexpectedly, and even when he expected it sometimes. Panicked, not in control, **_can't fucking breath-_**

Didn't he always have some way out of this? A person who would make fun of him, or someone who needed him to brave the fall if they were going to survive? There was a mission, one where 479er turned off the engines so that they could drop into the middle of the base and with the advantage of surprise. What was it that York said to him? Something about the suits recycling waste, and that he should test it and puke? Or was it North? Washington wrecks his mind, trying to find the direct quote or something _anything_ to distract himself from the too tight prison that just keeps closing in, and finds that his answer is being pulled away from him. Washington tries to chase after it, to follow the memory and latch onto something, but then it's gone, pulled behind a wall. He reaches out and touches it, then feels himself too being sucked into the cage. He rips himself away, and tries to grab onto the codes that are getting pulled behind the wall, but they fly through his hands like trying to grab a fistful of air. What's happening? Why is it going away? Why can't he stop it? Is he being transferred? Why? What did he do wrong? It's not as if his officer didn't deserve it, nor that bully. The mirror was just there and- 

No. No, those were both years ago. There's no mirrors, no blood, no justice getting served violently by the hands of someone who shouldn't be dishing it out. Just **Was** _D_ **h** _a_ **i** _vi_ **ng** _d_ **ton** trapped in this... Hang on, that's not right. That's not his name. He's Dav... Washi... Son of a bitch. He checks on the wall again, and sees that it's sucking more and more of him behind it. He tries to find a way around it, but it's like someone put a barrier halfway through the chip.... That's why the space he was in was shrinking. It was pushing him into a corner, and now it's separating him from his memories. But why? What did he do to deserve this? Did he do something wro-?

He already asked these questions. He's losing himself, his memories being torn away and thrown behind a wall. Is this what happened to the AI that Felix and Locus put in him? If that's the case, he needs to stop this immediately. He'll be an empty husk of... **Wa** _Dav_ **shin** _i_ _d_ **gton** stops. Why did they implant an AI into an AI? That makes no sense, but that's what... They... Did. Great, now he can't remember their names, or why he's supposed to be remembering them in the first place. All of his memories are gone, stuck somewhere. Was he supposed to know where? Know where what is? Where's..? What? 

The machine shuts off, finished with it's job. A small slot on the side opens and deposits the chip, which prompts Felix to step forward and inspect it with a doubtful eye. "It doesn't look any different, how do we know if it worked?" 

"I have confidence that it will be a success, but if you really wish to have proof, then see for yourself." The Counselor clears his throat, speaking with a gentle yet commanding tone. "Activate." 

A small grey and yellow hologram appears over the chip, portraying a confused and timid looking AI. They have no helmet, and their face is grey framed by yellow hair. Locus looks away, ignoring the sense of wrongness that he gets by looking at them. Felix smirks. "Hey there." 

"Uh... Hi." The AI looks up at him, feeling like they knew this stranger from somewhere, but that couldn't be... He just knows that there's a sense of distrust between them. 

"Welcome to the world, David." The Counselor looks down at the AI, now David, and smiles unsettlingly. 

"That's... My name?" David cocks his head to the side and looks around the room, still confused. He knows these people, but from where? 

The Counselor nods. "Yes, David. That's your call sign. Do you know why you're here?" 

David frowns, thinking. "I-"

"You work for us, comprende?" Felix squats down so that he's right in David's line of sight, flashing a grin that seems too wide and friendly to be genuine. Felix rolls his eyes when he gets no response, his smile turning to annoyance. "That means do you understand?" 

David nods, pushing his gut feeling back down. "Yes sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was so late, guys. I was supposed to update it last Saturday at the latest, but the internet died, so I'm doing it now. Anyhow, a lot happened this update! AI Wash is really a thing, or should I say David? Massive props to RwarRwar0221, who both gave me the idea for the name change and drew fanart. If you want to see it, they left a link in the comments on chapter 5. Ya'll should check it out!  
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I'll be posting again hopefully sooner than last time.


End file.
